


The Back Room

by tqpannie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-26
Updated: 2005-11-26
Packaged: 2018-10-25 13:25:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10765143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tqpannie/pseuds/tqpannie
Summary: Ron and Hermione play pool





	The Back Room

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

“Ron, we should really leave the room at some point,” Hermione said, turning her head to look at him. “We’ve not even been out to eat yet today.”  
  
  
  
“We’ll just have Dean and Seamus send something up to us,” he said, rising up on to his elbow. He reached out a hand to push a stray lock of curls off her face. “This is the first time we’ve been alone in Merlin knows how long.”  
  
  
  
“I’m really famished, Ron. I’ll make it up to you.”  
  
  
  
“How?”  
  
  
  
He was waggling his eyebrows up and down at her and his smile was nothing short of suggestive. His blue eyes sparkled with laughter and she couldn’t help but return his smile.  
  
  
  
“Anything you want, Ron.”  
  
  
  
“Anything?” He lowered his head and placed tiny kisses along her jaw line until he reached her ear. “Anything I want?” he asked again.  
  
  
  
A loud rumble cut through the silence of the room and Ron grinned down at her. She flushed, feeling horribly embarrassed, and then pushed his shoulders.  
  
  
  
“I told you I was hungry.”  
  
  
  
Ron smile grew broader and the corner of his mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. “You win, Hermione,” he said, rising out of the bed. “Just remember—anything I want.”  
  
  
  
Hermione let her eyes trail up and down Ron’s body. His hair was a deep red and only she knew how he loved to have fingers run through it. His chest was broad and covered with a fine layer of light red hair, then he turned and her eyes flew down the muscles of his back and rested on his arse. He had a beautiful arse, firm and round, and she felt another tug of desire in the pit of her stomach.  
  
  
  
“See something you like?”  
  
  
  
He had tugged on the boxer shorts that were discarded several hours ago and he was smirking at her. She thought about speaking but she was too distracted by the force of her desire for him. They had holed themselves up at the Leaky Cauldron, intending to spend the weekend relearning the secrets of each other’s bodies, and she suddenly was hungry for more than food.  
  
  
  
He was tugging his shirt on and Hermione almost groaned in disappointment. She continued to observe him as he pulled on his trousers—the muscles in his thighs flexed and she released a sharp gasp, not realizing she had been holding her breath.  
  
  
  
She shivered when his eyes fell on her. His hands clenched at his side and he started back towards the bed.  
  
  
  
“Hermione,” he growled, “if you want to get something to eat you’ll stop looking at me like that.”  
  
  
  
“Sorry, it’s just… you’re so incredibly beautiful.”  
  
  
  
She tossed the covers back and relished the sharp hiss of breath he took in. He ran his hand through his hair and started towards the door.  
  
  
  
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” he said hoarsely. “We’ll never get to leave if I watch you get dressed.”  
  
  
  
She laughed and started to dress as the door slammed shut behind him.  
  
  
  
  
  
She descended the stairs to find him chatting with Dean. He had ordered supper for both of them and she rushed to the table. Her need for nourishment caused her to slide into the small booth and pick up her spoon to take a large bite of stew.  
  
  
  
Dean looked over at her and raised his eyebrow. She flushed and met his gaze evenly.  
  
  
  
“I don’t even want to know what Weasley was doing to make you so hungry.”  
  
  
  
Hermione said nothing she merely glared and him. He went back to his conversation with Ron who seemed to find the whole thing amusing.  
  
  
  
“So I told Seamus a pool table would rake in the money.”  
  
  
  
“Where are you hiding it?” Ron asked and Hermione was surprised to see the excitement in his eyes. She hadn’t known that Ron played pool and she couldn’t help but speak up.  
  
  
  
“I play pool. Actually, I’m quite good at it.”  
  
  
  
Both men looked at her in astonishment before bursting into laughter.  
  
  
  
“Sure you are,” Ron said.  
  
  
  
She could tell by the tone of his voice he was humoring her and she felt suddenly felt the need to prove herself.  
  
  
  
“I play quite well,” she said sharply. “I can beat either one of you.”  
  
  
  
“Well, normally that would be fine but I can’t stay late tonight. Hannah will kill me if I stay past closing again.” Dean said with deep regret in his voice. “But… no, you two have better things to do.”  
  
  
  
“What?” Ron said eagerly.  
  
  
  
“Well, if you’d like, I mean, I trust you. If you promise to lock up the back room you guys can have a go at it.”  
  
  
  
“I would,” Hermione said. “I think a certain red head needs to be taught a lesson.”  
  
  
  
Ron smirked at her, challenging her with his eyes, and she met his gaze evenly and took another bite of stew. She was fully up to meeting any challenge he threw at her—she might not play Quidditch, but pool was a Muggle game—one she knew she could win.  
  
  
  
Dean handed Ron his keys. He saluted him both and wished Ron luck before heading back to the kitchens.  
  
  
  
They ate in companionable silence and Hermione studied him as he ate. He always ate like he did everything else… with passion and forcefulness. His zest for life was one of the things she loved about him; he never did anything halfway, whether it was making love or belching up slugs for her in second year.  
  
  
  
“You know I use to think Dean was a tosser,” he said softly, glancing around to make sure Dean wasn’t listening, “but he’s a pretty decent bloke.”  
  
  
  
“You only thought that because he was seeing Ginny.”  
  
  
  
“Well, Ginny belonged with Harry,” Ron said. “You know that.”  
  
  
  
It was a long-standing argument between them. Ginny had been smart and gone out with quite a few guys at Hogwarts before Harry had finally noticed her. Hermione felt this was perfectly acceptable, but Ron felt as if she had just been wasting her time.  
  
  
  
“Let’s not get into this,” Hermione said. “Are you finished yet? I have a lesson to teach you.”  
  
  
  
They heard Dean open the front door and head out. He uttered a locking spell and waved at them through the window. Hermione grinned in response and waved back.  
  
  
  
“Come on, Ron. Let’s play.”  
  
  
  
They headed toward the back room and she could feel his eyes on her. It was going to be fun beating him at something for a change. She would get bragging rights for once. They entered the room and Ron let out a low whistle. The table was beautiful; cherry wood and the surface was so soft that you could have a lie in there and be totally comfortable.  
  
  
  
Hermione crossed the room to the table and ran her fingertips along the wood. She bent over the table and racked the balls. She crossed the room to grab two pool sticks and smiled as he took his.  
  
  
  
“Should we make a wager?” she asked.  
  
  
  
Ron raised his eyebrow at her and appeared to be thinking. “You already promised me anything I want but I reckon I could make a wager,” he said, already gloating about his assumed victory.  
  
  
  
“Well then I guess you wouldn’t mind making a tiny wager,” she said. “If I win, you have to pleasure me with your mouth until I am screaming your name.” She smirked when she saw his hand tighten around the pool stick.  
  
  
  
“Fine, and if I win—the same.”  
  
  
  
Hermione extended her hand and they shook on it. He motioned for her to break and she could see the surprise on his face when the cue ball broke the others apart.  
  
  
  
“Nice break!” He exclaimed, clearly stunned at her skill.  
  
  
  
She smiled and proceeded to sink four balls into the pockets before missing. They went back and forth, each of them rising to the challenge, and Hermione realized they were equally matched. She wanted to win—badly. She racked her brain, going through options, and it came to her in a flash. She pretended to be studying his shot and as she walked by him she let her hand brush against the firm curve of his bum just as he was shooting. He missed his shot by a good millimeter and let loose with a string of curses.  
  
  
  
She used his distraction to her advantage and took the opportunity to undo two buttons on her blouse. She bent over her pool stick, looking as if she was studying her options, and two things happened at the same time—she bent over and allowed him a glance down her blouse, then she slid her hand slowly down the stick in what she hoped was a suggestive fashion.  
  
  
  
She missed her shot because he picked that moment to speak, “You’re beautiful… did you know?” he said softly.  
  
  
  
She could have growled with frustration and he came around behind her. She could feel his erection pressing against her lower back, and she shifted against it.  
  
  
  
“You remember when you said I could have anything I wanted?” he whispered, and his tongue darted out against the shell of her ear. “I want you.”  
  
  
  
His hands slid down her arms to her waist and he pulled her tighter against him. Hermione was awash in sensation. She shifted against him and elicited a sharp groan from him as he trailed kisses down her neck.  
  
  
  
“I want you… here… now…”  
  
  
  
She moaned softly as he slid his hands to the hem of her skirt and began bunching it up. His fingertips trailed fire over her thighs, softly brushing her inner thigh, and she pushed her hips forward when his hand slid under the elastic of her knickers.  
  
  
  
She wasn’t sure where her plan went wrong, she was a trembling mass of desire, and she slammed her hands down on the edge of the pool table.  
  
  
  
“You want me.”  
  
  
  
It wasn’t a question. He was stating facts and she couldn’t deny it.  
  
  
  
“Yes…” Her words trailed into a soft moan when his fingers danced over her.  
  
  
  
“You want me to fuck you right here… bend you over the pool table and fuck you hard.”  
  
  
  
She called out when he slid a finger inside her and began a slow thrust in and out of her. She was awash in pleasure; her body tingled, and sparks of fire flowed through her veins.  
  
  
  
“Answer me, Hermione!”  
  
  
  
“Yes! God, yes.”  
  
  
  
She heard the quite hiss of his trousers as they hit the floor and she bent forward over the end of the table. His hand left her center and she whimpered at the loss. She cried out when her ripped her knickers away, and she felt him press against her entrance. She couldn’t help but push back against him, causing him to slide inside completely, and they both moaned at the sensation.  
  
  
  
His hands slid to her hips and he pulled out almost completely before slamming into her again. His breath was hot against her neck and he was whispering words of love and adoration as he plowed into her.  
  
  
  
“You’re so tight, Hermione,” he groaned. “So wet.”  
  
  
  
She was so close, he felt so good inside her, and she met him fully. She could feel her orgasm approaching and she called out to him, “More… harder… make me come, Ron.”  
  
  
  
He growled against the back of her neck and pounded into her. The force of his thrusts caused her center to be pressed up against the edge and she felt delicious pleasure rock through her body.  
  
  
  
“Ron!”  
  
  
  
“Let me see you fly, Hermione. Come for me.”  
  
  
  
She felt her release come and white-hot heat flowed over her. She screamed his name over and over. She heard him call her name hoarsely as he thrust against her one last time before spilling inside her.  
  
  
  
He collapsed on top of her back and pressed a soft kiss to her neck.  
  
  
  
“You win,” she gasped. “You win.”  
  
  
  
He slid out of her and spun her in his arms. Her legs felt as if they were a large bowl of jelly and she clung to him for support. He bent and kissed her forehead gently.  
  
  
  
“We both win.” He said, smiling his lop-sided grin, “Let’s continue this upstairs. I believe I owe you something.”  
  
  
  
She laughed from the sheer joy that filled her and after they straightened their clothes she took his hand.  
  
  
  
“I love you, Ronald Weasley.”  
  
  
  
She sighed when he lifted her hand to his mouth; gently kissed the back of it, and she was stunned by the depth of emotion in his eyes when he whispered, “I love you, too.”


End file.
